


Two Worlds

by Voido



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Bonding, Coffee, Gifts, M/M, beach cafe, mer, mer!Keith, not for raisin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-28 04:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voido/pseuds/Voido
Summary: “You’re not funny, you know.”That’s when he finally hears an amused huff from his other side, causing him to turn around again and glare at his friend, who seems to be incredibly happy with himself, if his raised eyebrow and poised smirk are anything to go by.“You think? I’d say I’m hilarious.”---------------------Running a beach cafe is pretty simple, and straight-forward.Unless you make a friend with a blunt personality, and a huge, shiny-red fin.





	Two Worlds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silvamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvamoon/gifts).



> I wrote this sometime last month? because why would I focus on stuff I SHOULD work on. :^)  
> Initially didn't plan on uploading it, but oh well. It's Mermay, right?

Fullmoon.

A simple, soothing discovery. It shines bright on the water’s surface, waves slowly washing against the pier. The midnight-silence feels empty in comparison to the noise of the day, but if anything, it’s a welcome change. These few minutes at the end of each day, before going home and resting up for another one—

“They’re the best,” Lance says aloud and grins, planks creaking under his feet as he makes his way over them quietly. His pants get wet when he sits on the edge of the pier, but that’s fine—besides, his mind is busy, searching for a shimmer somewhere underneath the surface, or at least the sight of skin peeking out, but he doesn’t find it.

“Am I late?” he wonders to himself and checks his watch, but shakes his head as he sees the time. Just shortly past midnight—the usual time, the usual spot. It’s not him who’s late. It happens, sometimes, that they have to close the cafe a little late due to someone not leaving on time. Not now, though. He drops down and stares at the cloudless sky, a couple dozen stars framing the moon perfectly, and simply waits—that’s really all he can do, anyway.

If asked, he wouldn’t know how to explain these nights, so he’s glad he doesn’t have to. His sister is surprised that he volunteers to stay behind and close the shop, but too grateful at the same time to bother questioning his motives. Knowing her, she probably thinks he’s letting in a cute girl and watching the stars with her. Then again, considering the _true_ reason, _a cute date_ is definitely the easier explanation.

He hears something splash against the water loudly, but isn’t fast enough to get up before a wave hits him right in the face. He jumps up, shakes his head and curses under his breath, coughs because some of the water got in his mouth and nose, and turns around quickly to face the culprit, but finds…nothing. No one.

“You’re not funny, you know.”

That’s when he finally hears an amused huff from his other side, causing him to turn around again and glare at his friend, who seems to be incredibly happy with himself, if his raised eyebrow and poised smirk are anything to go by.

“You think? I’d say I’m hilarious.”

It’s not even worthy of a reply, so instead of giving one, Lance walks back over to the edge of the pier and sits down, crosses his legs and waits, eyes focused on the water right in front of himself.

A few seconds pass, then another splash of water hits the planks, but doesn’t quite reach him. This time, the mischief is gone, making way for a small but firm smile.

“You’re late,” Lance comments accusingly, not because he actually minds, but because it’s usually him hearing that. Now he’s grinning, which earns him nothing but a sigh. “I’m joking, grumpy. But seriously, where’ve you been?”

“I was busy.” A hand reaches out of the water, offering him something. He wants to complain about the fact that his pants are getting drenched, but instead opens his palm for whatever it could be. “Since you’re so obsessed with shiny things.”

It’s a pearl.

Not some sort of lame plastic pearl from a cheap necklace that someone threw into the ocean, mind you; an actual, real pearl. He holds it up above his head, smiling at how it shines under the moonlight. There’s not even room for teasing in him, because it’s true—he loves shiny things, and he loves the ocean. Shiny things from the ocean? Near perfect by default.

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Scoot.”

He does, moves a little more to the right, without tearing his eyes from the nacreous glimmer, even when water hits him—again—and finally manages to soak his feet and legs. In all honesty, he’s gotten used to it, and he’s also jumped into the water fully-clothed often enough to not mind the fabric sticking to his skin _too_ much anymore.

Carefully, he puts the pearl into his hoodie-pocket, making sure that it can’t fall out accidentally, and dares looking over to his friend.

It’s…quite a sight, to be frank. In general, because you don’t exactly see a huge _fin_ attached to a seemingly human upper body, but that much Lance has gotten used to. How? He doesn’t even know. Sometimes it’s still hard to believe, mostly because he can’t tell anyone else about it, but at least he’s not freaking out anymore.

Which he did. Maybe. A little. But only in the beginning! And rightfully so, in his opinion, because mer-people aren’t real, _okay?!_ Well, so he believed, at least.

“Are you done staring?”

He blinks and shakes his head to free it from those thoughts, but still doesn’t look away. He’s gotten used to the fin, theoretically, yeah—but there’s something about the bright red scales that draws him in whenever he gets to see them. It’s not his fault, though! Anyone would catch themselves staring, he’s sure. A finger flicking his forehead finally causes him to tear his eyes away.

“Ahh, don’t be like that, grumpy. Give me a break.”

“Stop calling me that.”

He does.

In fact, both of them stop talking for the rest of the short night, wordlessly enjoying each other’s silent company, and part with smiles that Lance hopes don’t only fluster himself the way they do.

 

* * *

 

“You reek.”

It’s not the most charming thing Lance has ever heard as a greeting, but it’s also not the least charming one, so he let’s it pass.

“Thanks, Keith, I missed you too. Of what, though?”

“Bitter. Burnt.”

He thinks for a moment and sniffs his shirt, but then he gets it. Coffee. He forgot to put his hoodie on, which normally covers the smell up even after a long day. After a moment, he realizes the slander in the words he just heard, and gasps dramatically.

“What do you mean, _reek_? It’s the smell of bliss and good fortune.”

“Humans are so weird…”

That, he absolutely can’t let pass.

 

* * *

 

Admittedly, maybe Lance takes this whole coffee ordeal a bit too personally, but in his defense, his family runs a _cafe_ at the beach, so he feels just a tad entitled regarding this whole situation.

A teeny-tiny bit.

And that’s precisely why he’s on the way to the pier again, armed with his favorite mug—there’s a pair of roaring lions on it, one red and one blue—and a whole lot of resolve. He’s heard of people who love the smell of coffee but hate the taste—who’s to say the opposite doesn’t exist as well?

But that’s not the only reason, if he’s entirely honest about it.

He reaches into his pocket where he still has the pearl Keith gave him a while ago. Lance considered putting it on display somewhere at home, but found he’s way more content carrying it on him wherever he goes. It means having to be extra-cautious about not losing it, but that’s worth it to him.

He has a few of those gifts. Pearls, shells, corals, all of them unique, all of them treasured. It’s like a whole different world is somehow being presented to him, and maybe that’s why he feels obligated to do the same, even if in different ways.

Taking a deep breath, he marches up to the edge of the pier, drops down to sit, and looks around, finding no one.

“I know you’re here, and you can’t attack me, because I’ve got something for you, and if it spills on me I’m going to whine about it for at least an hour.”

The reaction is immediate—water splashing in front of him, a hand shoving him away and another stealing the mug from him before he even gets the chance to do anything. He’s just getting ready to complain, when he hears the monotonous remark he expected.

“Reeks. What a horrible gift.”

“Try it at least!”

He moves closer again and watches the disgust on Keith’s face dissolve into uncertainty, maybe even curiosity. _Eagerness_ would be going a bit far, but one can dream, right? Lance watches—a little more intensely than he needs to, but he wants to know—his eyes trained on Keith’s expression when he takes a sip from the mug. Seconds pass, then he frowns and finally raises an eyebrow, humming to himself.

“It’s not _that_ bad, I guess.”

Win.

A small one, sure, but Lance doesn’t care, because any win is a good win.

“Told you.”

“I’m not saying it’s good.”

But at least he’s no longer _denying_ it, either.

They briefly share a recap of their days—a rather redundant thing to do, in all honesty, because not much ever happens which would be worthwhile. It’s more about the moment, about an old day melting into a new one, about this secret they’re sharing, like little kids who are hiding something from their parents.

“You’re closed during the winter, right?” Keith suddenly asks out of nowhere, and Lance isn’t sure what to say—it’s true. Little to no people actually go to a beach cafe during winter. It’s only for a couple of months, but still. He nods.

“I see.”

“Why, though?” he counters then, still surprised about the sudden question. And because he can’t ever pass an opportunity up, he goes on without waiting for an answer, a teasing edge to his voice. “Oh, I get it. You just can’t get enough of me and my beautiful face—understandable, really.”

A chuckle leaves his lips and he lies down on the planks, eyes closed and a smile settling down on his face. Silence ensues. That’s not exactly what he’s expecting; a huff? Maybe. A fin-whip full of water all over himself? Yeah, probably. Silence? Not so much.

Keith sighs, and even though it’s barely a sound, there’s so obviously a mixture of embarrassment and anger hidden underneath it.

_Oh._

It doesn’t take a master mind to see that Lance has hit a sore point, and what makes matters even worse is that he doesn’t even have anything nice to say to that. Why? Because for some reason, he’s now flattered as well.

“Hah,” he says, voice thin and heat rising to his cheeks. “I’m actually right about that.”

“Why did I even bring it up?”

Before he gets the chance to apologize, there’s a loud splash—clear indicator of Keith ditching him without any word of goodbye, something that has _never_ happened between them. Suddenly, Lance feels very insensitive and stupid, and grumbles about his own inability to just keep his mouth shut in these kinds of situations. He sits back up, sighs and tries to tell himself that he’s not pouting, even though he knows he’s _totally_ pouting, and looks at the spot where he can still see the water cast small waves over the surface.

“Classic, Lance. You did it again.”

And half a second later, a huge spout of water engulfs him from the front, leaving him shocked, drenched and squeaking because it’s _so goddamn cold_.

“What the hell! You almost swept my mug away.”

Keith laughs and climbs back onto the pier with a _very_ poised smirk on his lips.

“You deserved that.”

“I did.”

But while Lance is able to acknowledge that, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s now freezing and should probably head home soon to warm himself up. Still, he’s glad that Keith doesn’t seem to be _actually_ mad. They tease each other on an almost daily basis, but there’s hardly ever anything worth fighting about—if he has a say in it, Lance would like to keep it that way.

“Honestly, though,” he says then, moving a bit closer because Keith practically _radiates_ warmth. “I’ll still drop by. There’s a whole lot of things I gotta show you, and they’re not waiting until spring, you hear me?”

“Mh. Thanks, anyway.”

“For?”

Keith snorts, performs a rather sweeping gesture around them and seems to believe that answers everything.

It doesn’t. In fact, it doesn’t answer _anything_ at all.

“You’re dense sometimes.”

Offended by those words, Lance takes a deep breath, but Keith shakes his head, prompting him not to interrupt.

“Any other person would’ve…what did you say once? _Sold me to weird scientists?_ ”

He nods shortly. It’s true. Most people would’ve probably freaked out, run away and called the police or so upon seeing a mer at the beach. Lance was surprised as well, no doubt about it, but he’s never understood people who torture others for some sick kind of satisfaction. He pulls a face and sighs.

“I’m trying to say…you’re a good friend. A little insensitive, sometimes, but still good. So…thanks.”

“Yeah…sure. I should head home. _Someone_ turned me into a walking puddle.”

He sticks his tongue out and gets up, shakes a bit of the water out of his hair and clothes, and grins happily. It might not be the most logical, the most convenient friendship ever, one of them stuck on the land and the other in the water, yet even so—or maybe because of that—it’s one he wouldn’t ever want to miss.

“Better run, before I pull you in,” Keith replies and slides into the water to prove his point. For just a second, Lance feels very brave, leans down towards the surface and announces:

“You would never, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t manage to turn away quickly enough, and Keith acts on his threat, absolutely no mercy in him.

“You deserved that, too.”

Lance chuckles and nods, pulls him into a hug and agrees.

“I really did.”


End file.
